5. Declan

FIVE

DECLAN

The morning after I hung out with Savvy, the band sat down with Crystelle for a breakfast meeting. On the agenda: Rocktoberfest in Black Rock City—our annual chance to unleash fresh music before hitting the road for a major tour early next year. Skye, Lennon's girlfriend, has been on fire lately, and her new tracks are poised to steal the spotlight.

I should have been adding my own songs to the lineup, but nothing's been coming to me. Not a single note, not a word. Just like my painting, my music's been stuck in limbo.

But something tells me that's about to change. For the first time in months, I can feel my hands itching to get hold of a paintbrush and inspiration has struck at last.

I pull into the driveway after the meeting, my mind buzzing. A quick stop for a large black coffee, and I'm heading straight to my studio. Time to face the blank canvas that's been taunting me for weeks.

Not today.

I grab a pencil and dive in. Line after line, the sketch begins to take shape. Minutes blur into hours. It's been years since I've felt this kind of creative flow, completely lost in the rhythm of it. By the time I'm sifting through paint colors, the empty canvas is no longer a problem. The sketch is there—alive, breathing. I've almost forgotten the world outside until my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Lennon.

"Hey, man. How's it going?"

"Good, good. Skye and the twins are here too."

I grin at the mention of the twins—Caleb and Isabella. They're in their twenties now, Skye's kids with her late husband. They practically idolize Lennon, just like Skye. I can't blame them. "That's great. How long are you in town?"

"Just a few days. Skye's meeting with some indie guitar manufacturer for her shop. Oh, and Jazz says he's throwing a party at his place tomorrow. He told me I had to invite you personally or you wouldn't show."

I laugh. Trust Jasper to figure out where my head's at. "Sounds about right."

"Are you turning into a boring old rocker?" Lennon teases.

"Never. I'm a bored old rocker; there's a difference. Although I might have found someone who's changing that…"

"Nice! Bring her along to Jasper's. We'd love to meet her."

I freeze, a strange weight settling in my chest. Lennon thinks I'm talking about a woman. Of course, he does. Hell, even I'd assume the same thing. It's been years since I let anyone new into my tight circle. The band's my family, my everything. But Savvy—Savion—is different. He's got this raw, honest energy that pulls me in, and I can't explain why. It's like breathing fresh air for the first time in too long.

But then, I remember that moment our hands had brushed by accident. He'd tensed, and for a second, a jolt of panic went through me, like I'd crossed a line I didn't even know was there. Then, just as quickly, he relaxed, and so did I, realizing I'd been holding my breath.

There's no reason to feel weird about this, right? Just two guys hanging out. Friends. Except... it feels different.

In the background I can hear Skye whisper shouting, bringing me back to the present. "Tell him I'll kill him if he doesn't show up."

"There's no need for threats, Skye. I'm coming. Geez!" I love that woman. Our band had gotten into a rut over the years. I guess we'd all missed the vibes she brought to our band during its early stages of development, when we were just practicing in Lennon's basement and making mad noise. When she and Lennon got back together, it was as if she'd injected us with good vibes. Add to that the deep, soulful lyrics of her songs and Orion Skye are as good as we were when we first came on the scene and set the world on fire… perhaps even better. "I'll see about bringing Savvy too."

"Savvy?" Lennon's tone shifts, curious now. "Interesting. Definitely bring her along."

Her. Right. I hang up, shoving the phone back into my pocket, a nervous laugh bubbling up before I can stop it. Shit. They think Savvy's a woman. I'm not correcting them yet, though—I'll cross that bridge when I have to.

I glance at the sketch I'd been working on before the call. It's turning out better than I expected. Another good sign. Savvy's got to come to this party. Even if it's awkward at first, I want him there. I bet he'll love Skye, and I'd like to show him off a bit. I get the feeling he isn't used to being shown off, even though he should be. I shoot him a text.

Me: Hey, you free? Let's grab dinner. My treat.

I don't have to wait long for a reply.

Savvy: Sure, I can eat.

I chuckle at that. There's something so refreshing about how low-key he is. No pretense, no gushing excitement like I usually get. Just... chill. He doesn't know what kind of world he's stepped into by hanging out with me, but I get the feeling he's not fazed by it either.

Those scars of his... they had to hurt like hell. The thought makes my chest tighten. How long ago did it happen? Who was there for him when he needed someone most? Is there anyone in his corner now?

I want to be that guy for him. The thought takes me by surprise, but it feels right. I know what it's like to need support, to have your world fall apart and rely on the people who stick around when the dust settles. But Savion doesn't seem like the kind of person who rushes into anything, least of all friendships.

I shake it off and text him again to ask for his address.

When I pull up to the location not long after, confusion hits me. This isn't a residential street—it's a Trader Joe's. Then I spot him, standing outside like it's no big deal. He slides into the passenger seat, that easy smile on his face, revealing the dimple on his right cheek.

And suddenly, it hits me. If Savvy were a woman, I probably would've asked her out the first time we met. The thought slams into me like a wave, leaving me momentarily breathless. I've always known my type—fun, confident, female. Yet here I am, with this guy who's... none of that, and perfect at the same time.

It makes no sense. Why would I be thinking about him like that? My mind races, trying to dismiss it as just... respect, admiration maybe. We've only just met, but there's something about him, something that keeps pulling me closer.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I shove the thought aside, almost angry with myself for even going there. It's just dinner. Just two guys hanging out. Friends. It has to be.

Savvy's voice cuts through my inner spiral. "This is a nice surprise," he says, completely unaware of the storm brewing in my head. He's so casual, so... him.

I force a smile, but it feels tight, strained, like my face doesn't know how to relax anymore. "Yeah," I manage, my voice a little too rough around the edges. "It is."

I clear my throat, needing to break the tension in my own mind. "So what's the deal here, then?" I glance over at him, trying to lighten the mood. "Please tell me a paleontologist doesn't have to moonlight in a supermarket to make ends meet these days."

Savvy lets out a laugh, the sound grounding me. "No, I was just... shopping when you texted me."

My eyes drop to his hands—empty. Not a single bag in sight. It would've been easy to call him out, but something holds me back. Maybe it's none of my business. Or maybe he's just being careful, and I can't blame him. Not everyone's comfortable letting a stranger know where they live. Hell, maybe he's got a good reason to be cautious around men in particular.

Before the silence stretches too long, he asks, "So, where are you taking me?"

I shoot him a quick smile, the kind that masks the questions circling in my head. "Where would you like to be taken?" I shift my attention back to the road, keeping things easy.

He glances around at the vintage leather, running a hand over the smooth surface, clearly impressed. "Well, judging by what this car must have cost, I'm going to say it should be someplace expensive." He flashes a grin before quickly adding, "I'm kidding!"

The way he says it, so genuine and light, makes me laugh. Like he even needed to clarify. Savvy's the last person I'd ever accuse of being a gold-digger. He's too real for that.

"How about a burger?" he suggests, casual but with that same smile that's starting to feel like a constant for him.

I nod, feeling a sense of relief that we're steering things back into comfortable territory. "Now you're speaking my language," I reply. "How about a burger by the beach? Traffic doesn't look too bad, and I know a great spot."

I shift into gear and head toward Santa Monica. The evening traffic flows smoothly, and as we drive, I listen to Savvy recounting the latest from the museum—the new exhibitions on the horizon, the ones he'll miss, and his boss's amusing refusal to approve a half-million-dollar purchase of a prehistoric giant rat skeleton.

"You have a very strange life, you know," I comment as he wraps up his rat saga. He snorts in response, and the sound is unexpectedly endearing.

"Oh please," he retorts with a laugh that's both amused and genuine. "I've got an unusual life? You, who travel the world with your every whim catered to and legions of fans cheering you on, think my life is strange?"

I shrug, feeling a little self-conscious. "That's not strange to me. It's mundane. Maybe that makes me sound spoiled, but honestly, my lifestyle gets a bit monotonous. There are no groundbreaking discoveries in my day-to-day routine, not like yours."

The car hums steadily as we drive in silence for a moment. I find myself reflecting on his words, realizing there's something comforting about this conversation. I finally break the quiet. "Maybe that's why we've clicked. We're both searching for something, and somehow, we've ended up sharing it."

"I like the sound of that," he says quietly, his voice soft but filled with a warmth that seems to linger between us.

We arrive at the beach and stroll down the boardwalk towards my favorite burger shack. It's the epitome of cheap and cheerful, and I have a feeling Savvy is going to appreciate its laid-back charm.

The ocean breeze is relentless, pushing Savvy's hair back and exposing his scars. I can't deny it: Savvy is beautiful. His face, even with its imperfections, is captivating.

To my dismay, a group of teenagers starts whispering and pointing, their fingers covertly aimed at Savvy's face. Nearby, a mother with her young child stares openly, her gaze lingering on Savvy's scars with an uncomfortable blend of curiosity and pity.

It's odd for me, usually the center of attention, to find myself invisible today. Dressed in a simple hoodie and sunglasses, my attempt to blend in is working better than expected. In LA, where anonymity is a rare commodity for someone like me, I'm surprisingly unnoticed—but right now, I wish all those eyes were on me instead of Savvy.

The way people openly stare at him is jarring. I feel a pang of guilt for ever complaining about the pressures of fame. Clearly, I've never truly understood what it means to be scrutinized so intensely. The thought of confronting those insensitively staring makes me feel a surge of anger, but I know Savvy wouldn't appreciate that. Instead, I restrain myself, though the frustration gnaws at me.

Savvy's sidelong glances toward those watching him shows he's not oblivious to their judgment. He tries to pull his hair back into place, but his efforts are in vain. He instinctively tries to make himself smaller, less noticeable. Despite his attempts to fade into the background, he's all I can focus on—fresh, unfiltered, and undeniably real. And in a way I can't quite explain, I find myself wanting to be his... friend.

One man's gaze lingers longer than most. He nudges the young woman beside him—maybe his girlfriend—and I find myself glaring at him with such intensity that I almost expect him to burst into flames. The urge to confront him is strong, but I know Savvy wouldn't want that. Instead, I force myself to move on, though the irritation lingers.

As we reach the burger shack, I try to shake off the irritation. "So, this is it," I say, trying to lighten the mood as I point to the ramshackle building. It's seen better days and stands like a testament to resilience after the recent storms.

Savvy glances at the place and smiles, the warmth of the burger shack offering a brief reprieve from the scrutiny we just left behind. I hope this simple, unpretentious spot will provide him with a moment of peace, away from the stares and whispers.

"Wow, you're really spoiling me," Savvy playfully nudges my arm. I feel a shock of electricity from his touch.

"Don't knock it ‘til you've tried it." I head up to the counter.

"Hey, Dec," Ralph, the guy who runs the place, greets me. "It's been too long, man."

"Tell me about it," I reply. "Two of the usual, please."

"Two? Are you bulking up, or…" He leans over the counter and sees Savvy standing just beside me. "Oh, I see. Treating a friend to the best gastronomic experience in town, I see."

"You know it." I turn and smile at Savvy, and he grins back at me. "See, this is gastronomic. "

"I'm not doubting you." After a few minutes, Ralph hands over the burgers, and I lead Savvy to a quieter spot on the beach. "There's a great little nook over there." I point to a sheltered area. "The wind isn't too strong, and it's away from the crowds."

"Sounds good to me."

It only takes a few minutes to get there, and we sit down. I wait while Savvy takes the first bite of his burger. "Oh. My. God." His mouth is still half full, and I have to laugh at his reaction. "Where has this place been since I moved to LA?"

"I know, right?" I finally begin unwrapping mine and take a large bite myself. "I don't always like living in LA, but there are a few things that make it worthwhile; this is one of them."

We chat about our lives, Savvy brings up a new exhibit at the museum, and I share a funny story about an old band mishap. It's nice to talk about mundane things, just enjoying each other's company without the weight of earlier scrutiny.

As we sit finishing our burgers, I glance over and notice a smear of sauce. Without thinking, I grab a napkin and hold it out to him.

"Here," I say, smiling. "You've got some sauce on your hand."

Savvy glances down, a little sheepish, but reaches out to take the napkin from me. For a brief moment, our fingers brush, and there's a spark of something unspoken between us. It's just a small, fleeting touch, but I feel it—an unexpected warmth that makes my heart beat a little faster.

"Thanks," Savvy mumbles, wiping his hand. His tone is light, but I catch the slight blush on his cheeks, and it makes me smile even more. "I'm a messy eater. Always have been."

I laugh. "My bandmate, Lars—who you've already met—is the same. It's a wonder he manages to be as muscular as he is. I swear he gets more food on him than inside him. Actually, on that note… another one of my bandmates, Jasper—Jazz—is having a party tomorrow night. I was wondering if you'd want to go with me?" Concern and doubt cloud his face, so I quickly add, "It's totally casual, just the bandmates and some of our closest friends. Lennon's girlfriend, Skye, is coming. She's part of the band too, and I think you'll really like her."

"I don't know…" Savvy balls up his empty burger wrapper and takes a swig of soda. "I'm not sure that's really my scene."

"I'll be there, and I promise I won't leave your side all night," I tell him. "Except, I bet everyone's going to love you and you'll probably end up loving them so much, you'll be begging me to leave you alone."

"That seems unlikely." He clears his throat. "Okay, fine, I'll go. But just so you know up front… I don't dance."

I stand up and help him to his feet. "Believe it or not, neither do I." I snicker. "And neither does Skye, for that matter, or Lennon. Some band we are, right?"